Sweet Dreams Are Made Of This
by Ringbearingreasergal
Summary: When a vengeful dark-elf accidentally transports Legolas and her into downtown Seattle, the only friends they're able to find in the new world are two opposing street gangs out to kill each other. Can Legolas outwit the mafia before it's too late? AU.


**So, I know I haven't done anything on fanfiction for awhile, but the truth is, I've been writing like crazy recently. This is a fanfic I've been really excited for--first of all because it's the first LOTR fanfic I've posted (I've many more written xD) and secondly because this is a cross-over...with my own original ghetto story. No joke. I've been thinking of ways to wean myself from fanfiction, so what could be more fun than a cross-over with my own stuff? This'll be awesome! Prepare for a really long disclaimer. **

**THE INSPIRATION FOR THIS GOES TO Ilada'Jefiv for writing the most COOLEST Legolas AU ever called 'Fateful Knowledge'. So, go read it! Nao!**

**Disclaimer: I do not own any of the LOTR characters or places referred to. I do not own the lyrics 'Sweet Dreams Are Made of This' by Annie Lennox from Eurythmics--it's only based off it, okay?! I own Morlyn (not from my ghetto story. New character), Viro, Blaze, Calamity, Sketch, Ozzie, JD, Crime, Adam, Rexi (might not incorporate her however), Damien, Marcus, Crimson, Frigid, and Braedon. I own the plot. I own the idea. NO STEALING FROM MEEEE! **

Sweet Dreams Are Made Of This

**Chapter One: Sources**

_Sweet dreams are made of this/Who am I to disagree?/I travel the world and the seven seas/Everybody's lookin' for something._

* * *

"Morlyn. Tell me—what do you see?" The wizard's voice echoed across the empty marble balcony. A few deliberate seconds later, soft satin shoes entered the room and padded deftly across the smooth stone floor—long, delicate skirts trailed behind them, stopping beside the wizard Saruman as he gazed over his armies and factories hundreds of feet below.

"I see an empire of the future." The female voice that spoke was sharp and silver.

"What you see is not enough. You know this. I would not be in need of your services if it was."

"This is why I call you my master," the woman responded slowly. "Because the family of Elyrinath will be avenged through the deeds you lead me through."

"Of course, Morlyn of Elyrinath." The wizard's dark eyes wrenched finally from his army and landed on the Elvin figure next to him. She was tall, proud, and dark. Her skin was a rich brown and smooth. Her sharp and lovely face was hardened and her liquid brown eyes were fixated on the masses below them. Her mouth was set in a rough line as if she were studying each and every creature down working and finding something wrong with them. Her dress, dark violet velvet, was a simple and elegant pattern that fell over her slender build. Straight ebony hair tumbled past her shoulders and hung smoothly at her back. She was a picture of pristine malevolence.

"Have I yet described to you your future mission, Morlyn?" The wizard queried.

"You have said only that it would be a turning point in the destruction of our enemies."

"So I did. I would have you know that the power your family possessed was not unknown to me. When I discovered you were the only one who managed to escape, I grieved for your loss.  
"Your sympathy is appreciated."

"How long have you dwelled here in Isengard?"

"Since the last full moon. Nearly a month."

"Why do you stay here?" His questions were ones of loyalty.

"Because you have offered me vengeance," she replied. Her answers were automatic and true. As if, she thought about them too long, her eyes would blaze and her patience would shatter.

"Why do you do this?" Saruman asked with a barely visible twitch of a smile on his lips.

"Because of what Thranduil—and the rest of them—did." Her eyes flared, speaking the name.

"And what did they do?" Saruman asked, now clearly enjoying himself.

"They killed my family—everything I lived for." Morlyn burned. Saruman chuckled softly.

"So what do you live for now?"

"Killing everything _they_ live for."

"Good, Morlyn. That will be all for now. Tonight I will speak to you of how you are to assist me." Morlyn left without a word.

**XxXxXx**

They dined alone at a vast, rectangular stone table later that night. Saruman at the head, and Morlyn, fifteen feet across from him, at the foot. The room they were in was on the twenty-third level of the tower of Isengard, the wizard's blackly majestic fortress. Not long ago, the tower was a symbol hope for the kings of men and elves. Not long ago, things had changed. A serving man, pale and shriveled, although he couldn't have been over thirty years old, stumbled, back hunched with two plates of rich, but gritty looking food.

"Grima's spying eyes have not proved completely fruitless to me," the wizard said over dinner. "I have heard that the king's nephew, Eomer son of Eomund, of Rohan is a suspect of my alliance."

"You sent the little man over to Edoras to take ensure the king's support—did you not?" Morlyn asked. The wizard's long face did not change.

"There is more that I have heard. More dangerous news I have kept from you lest the wrong ears hear your thoughts. This may compromise the surety of Theoden's . . . _loyalty_, and certainly will be a danger worth getting rid of in the future."

"I expect that this is the basis for your use for me," Morlyn said. Saruman nodded.

"This is truth. I would have you meet with me in the seeing room after we dine. Your future work is not a light matter. The stone of Orthanc is everything."

Morlyn's thin eyebrows arched, but said nothing.

**XxXxXx**

"The realm of Middle Earth has turned to a dubious place where not all things can ever be certain. Even death itself." Saruman said later as they entered the room of the seeing stone, Orthanc.

"I do not understand," Morlyn said. "It is only the Eldalie and few Istari that can escape."

"You know of the wizard Olorin, or Mithrandir, do you not?"

"There was once a great whisper of him in the cold and from the birds, not long ago. They were grieving his passing. I have heard great legends of Mithrandir but I have never myself seen him."

"What you may not have heard from the wind or fowl is that he is alive." Morlyn's eyes widened.

"How is this possible?"

"The elf queen called Galadriel of the golden realm has taken life and death into her own hands. She has brought Gandalf the Grey back and we cannot afford this."

"You want me to kill him again?"

"Apparently it would prove useless, now that the Queen of Lothlorien is not afraid to flex the power she has over life and death."

"So what _am_ I supposed to do with him?" She asked.

"Send him far, _far_ away." Saruman lifted the veil from the palantir. Morlyn gasped quietly as the flaming crystal burst to life and the eye of Saruman engulfed it. Neither Saruman, nor her were touching it. Sauron was contacting _them_.

Voices and thoughts and images raced through Morlyn's mind as the eye of Sauron filled her brain with flickerings and images she had never known existed. She could only barely hear the voice of her master rise in tone.

"_You_, Morlyn Elyrinath, are one of the most powerful elves alive in Middle Earth. The level of spells and magick you have inherited from your father and mother is near unbelievable and through you, we can achieve the impossible."

"This isn't our world," Morlyn half-hissed, half-whimpered as Sauron's ideas engulfed her. "This is madness."

"And it's only through your power that it will work," Saruman said. "Would you have your family's death be in vain? Thranduil arrested you and your clan because of your belief and practice in the black arts. Would you leave that to waste? You can no longer be a simple nomadic moriquend, wandering the countries without purpose. _This is fate_." With a shock, the power of Saruman left her and impact threw Morlyn to her knees.

"Where is he? Where is Thranduil?! I am going to _kill him now_!" Morlyn shrieked.

"Yes, yes," Saruman encouraged. "But first, you are going to steal his resources. With Mithrandir gone, men and elves will be divided. And they will not win this by themselves."

"Where do I find him?" She spoke in a low tone as she got to her feet.

"You will be traveling with a band of uruks. Last I heard he was stalking around the Fangorn Forest, looking for his lost friends. South of the Misty Mountains. The band will escort you there."

"The Fangorn Forest covers a hundred _thousand_ square miles," she breathed. "How am I to find him?" Saruman chuckled.

"Trust me. The path will be clear. You will be taking the palantir with you so although I am aware this may be its last sight to be seen, keep it secret. Keep it safe."

"What if we are attacked? The wind also spoke of rangers—a man, elf, and dwarf—prowling for orcs."

"Then you are Selene, daughter of Hanerth and Nyelsaa, who was captured along the River Angren for being suspected of one of traveling with these rangers."

"What if my power is not enough? What if I cannot carry him through?"

"This is only possible _because_ of your power. The stone of Orthanc will carry him through. None of the uruks know of your quest. They know you _have_ one, but that is all. Their own mission is to locate and bring back two Halflings."

"Halflings? What would you want with two of those?" She asked distastefully. Saruman studied her thoughtfully.

"What do you know of the Rings of Power?" He asked finally. Morlyn thought.

"I know of legends and of the nineteen rings of the races," she replied. And Saruman knew she knew nothing of The One Ring or even the Fellowship. She was in for quite the surprise. He dropped the topic in sudden.

"You leave tomorrow." He said. "Supplies have been packed for you." He turned to leave when Morlyn spoke again.

"That place he made me watch—that was not Middle Earth."

"You're right," he said. "It wasn't."

"How does he have these kinds of connections to places we have never been able to dream of?"

"Sources," he replied.

**XxXxXx**

It was seven days after Morlyn had left, traveling with the group of four hundred uruk hai. They moved with speed but Morlyn kept up easily. She had shed her feminine clothes for the trip and had instead taken of the garb of men—black breeches and a violet, long-sleeved lace-up shirt with light leather shoes and a long black magick cloak that Saruman had given her to hide the palantir.

The first few nights had been fairly painful. To her own dismay, she realized that for her story about being captured by orcs to be believable, she'd have to _look_ like she'd been dragged from her home. The self-inflicted bruises all over her body were nothing compared to the big bloody gash above her right eye she'd tactfully created. The only thing she carried with her was a dagger at her breeches—one of the orc knives so she could say she stole it—a bit of food, and the palantir which was sewed into a secret pocket that could not be found by anyone but the wearer and made no bulges.

The second day had been spent on the river and while the uruks ran onshore to look for their Halflings, Morlyn stayed hidden in the boat, covered by her cloak. They came back hours later, with two Halflings, to get their supplies and to continue on foot. They would go back towards Isengard and guide her to Fangorn on the way back. That would be where her journey _really_ began.

On the seventh night though, only about a mile east of Fangorn, they were attacked by Eomer and two thousand riders. Morlyn could sense this battle coming ahead of time and was able to creep away toward Fangorn only minutes before Eomer and his small army actually arrived. She felt a strange power and knew that Mithrandir, the one she was to send to a completely different dimension, was in these woods.

**XxXxXx**

Aragorn whipped his head around, wet streaks of dark hair sticking to him as he did so.

"What's got into you now?" Said the ranger's companion, a red-bearded dwarf.

"Quiet, Gimli," Aragorn advised. "Legolas, did you hear that noise?" The man addressed his last Elven companion. The yellow-locked prince narrowed his keen eyes as if to pierce the offender with a deadly gaze instead of an arrow.

"How I _hate_ these cursed woods," Gimli grumbled. "Absolutely no air to breathe—and it's constantly got you two in a tither. I, for one, heard nothing. My advice would be to let go of this nonsense and focus on finding our lost Halflings!"

"It might'nt be nonsense, dwarf," Legolas said in a hushed tone. "The Fangorn Forest holds many secrets," he drew his bow, "Many dangerous secrets." Gimli began to share in the concern of his friends.

"Aye, what if the old man from our old camp has come to pay us a visit?"

"An elf, a man, and a fierce dwarf—we needn't surprise _or_ time on our hands to defeat such a foe," Aragorn smiled. They were quiet. From behind him, Legolas's ears caught the sound of a quick breath. He sprang immediately backward, knocking through the thick brush and coming face to face with—a lady? An _Elven_ lady. Her dark face was scarred and her dark eyes were wide and fearful. Legolas dropped his bow and Aragorn and Gimli were quick to join the elf at his side.

She backed away from them, seemingly terrified by her discovery. Aragorn and Gimli put down their weapons in an attempt to convince her they would not harm her.

"_Lin bar?_" Aragorn asked in Sindarin. Many elves had not yet adjusted to the common tongue.

"I live along the Angren River," she replied clearly. She had the voice of a falcon—dangerous and silver. Gimli was taken aback by the contrary strong tone of her voice to her weak state. At least, however, he could understand what she was saying.

"How did you get here?" Aragorn asked. The maiden looked from Aragorn to Gimli.

"Are you going to hurt me?" She asked. The three of them stepped back and she relaxed a bit. "My village was raided and burned to the ground just ten days ago. I was the only one they kept alive—because I was an elf in a village of man—they believed me to be a spy . . ." her head and body suddenly fell forward and she went limp. Legolas blew out a breath as he caught her. She had lost consciousness.

"She looks like she hasn't eaten or slept for days," Gimli commented. "Can we afford one night to camp early?" He asked Aragorn. Aragorn looked tiredly at the unconscious maiden on the ground. His eyes squinted as he got a better look at her in the light.

"What is one of the moriquendi doing on the River Angren?" He asked quietly, studying her.

"She certainly doesn't look like any of the dark children I've come across," Legolas said thoughtfully. "But that might be because of her garments." The dark elf wore breeches, cloak, and shirt as a man might.

Aragorn wasted no time in preparing a fire from bits of chip and stray bark. A few minutes later, the maiden began to awake. She gasped.

"Water," she croaked, and Legolas quickly lowered a skin of water to her lips. At first she coughed and choked, but eventually she was awake enough to swallow; drops of the liquid dripping down her lips, chin, and hollow of her throat. She lay still on the ground a moment, eyes closed, before with great effort, sitting up. "I should go now," she said. "Thank you for your hospitality." Gimli looked up.

"Lady, there's naught a person around for a hundred miles." She paused before speaking uncertainly.

"You wish me to stay?" She asked.

"We _wish_ for you to keep alive by not wandering about enchanted forests on your own," Aragorn said. "Now who are you?"

"My name is Selene. Daughter of Hanerth and Nyelsaa." She replied as proudly as she could while being hovered over by a dwarf and man. "Neither of them are still alive."

"Are you hurt?" Aragorn asked. The Elven woman's eyes darkened and her counter stiffened.

"I have no injuries you could heal," she said stiffly. Aragorn pressed further.

"My lady, I am a healer, and I could—"

"_Mortal_," she addressed Aragorn, using a great amount of jaw exertion to speak the word, "I do not _doubt_ your healing skills." Legolas's eyes flicked to the woman who called herself Selene and wondered about her journey.

"Did you see any Halflings?" Gimli questioned eagerly. "Small fellows with curled hair and large feet?" We're searching for two members of our company. They were—we suspect they were able to escape here after the battle." Legolas threw a glance at the dwarf, warning him to watch a loose tongue.

"In ten days . . . I might've caught a glance at one of your creatures, but my eyes were weary and deceived me often."

"Do you need anything?" Legolas asked. "You do not look . . . well," he politely referred to her gaunt cheekbones, smudged and bruised skin, and forehead matted with half-dried blood.

"I was in a weakened state a few minutes ago when I swallowed you water," she said pointedly. "Before I eat or drink anything else you so readily provide, who are _you_?"

"I am Aragorn—of, of Gondor. This is Gimli, son of Gloin and Legolas, son of Thranduil. We are rangers, simply seeking for our lost friends," Aragorn said. Gimli thought he saw a strange, dark light in the elf-maiden's eyes as Aragorn mentioned the name 'Thranduil'. He looked to Legolas, but it would seem he hadn't noticed. Selene raised a thin eyebrow.

"Simple rangers," she repeated. "Tell me—when does the son of a king classify as a simple ranger?" She pointed her gaze at Legolas who was unfazed. "I may remind you that I was not always such a feral thing. I _know _who Thranduil is."

"Perhaps simple was too modest a phrase, then," Legolas said evenly, "we _are_ rangers, and we _do_ seek our friends. Any business beyond this is our own."

Selene rand her hands over her face, wiping grime away from her face and gathering her long, black hair into the back of her head where she tied it with a bit of twine she'd been clutching in her hand.

"It is very important that we know—did any orcs escape from the ambush? Did any follow you in?" Aragorn asked. Selene smirked.

"Three tried to," she said flippantly. "But by then my hands and feet had been unbound. I didn't need a blade or bow to dispose of them." At this, her head nodded suddenly, and she struggled to stay upright. Legolas caught his breath as she fell forward. She looked very weak.

"You're invited to rest for the night," Gimli encouraged. "You need not fear us, milady." Legolas offered her a blanket. She took it, hesitantly.

"Thank you for your kindness," she was barely able to murmur as her head hit the ground, already asleep.

**XxXxXx**

Morlyn awoke long before the elf, the _spawn_ of Thranduil, had gently prodded her eyes open the next morning. No. Instead she had lay, quietly still, and listened to the hushed conversation and rustle of twigs and packs around her.

"Lady Selene," came the elf's soft voice next to her. She felt his warm breath on the smooth curve of her forehead. Her wide-set brown eyes blinked open. "Soon we will be off to continue the search," he said. Her dark eyes scanned his handsome face: gentle, sincere, _disgusting_. Utterly sickening. She coaxed her mouth into a weary half-smile.

"I understand," her groggy voice replied. She stood up, sore and bruised, and neatly folded the blanket. She straightened her cloak and felt casually for the sacred palantir. Safe. As usual. Good.

"Are you hungry?" The dwarf asked, striding up to her, leaning his hand on his great axe. "We've got a spare bit of the Elven bread with us," he offered a packet of the light-elf food wrapped in a rich, green leaf. The sight of it, the _smell_ of it, brought bile to Morlyn's tongue. She wished to scream that she would sooner starve to death rather than eat the sun-food. The truth was, in the past two days that she had been wandering the forest, she _hadn't_ eaten. Her food supplies would've looked too suspicious and she had abandoned them back at the camp site to be trampled by Eomer's riders.

"I thank you, master dwarf, for your generosity. But I am afraid my stomach would suffer to consume any food now," she sighed regretfully. The dwarf shrugged and crammed a bite into his own mouth.

"Have you recovered enough strength to travel with us?" The mortal called Aragorn asked, dousing the morning flame and tying a light pack together.

"I have," she answered.

"Then let's be off," he suggested. They began the trek.

They moved quickly through the woods; the trees being flexible and easily moved through. There was a damp humidity that had settled in the air, making it even harder to breathe than before. Their clothes clung to their bodies uncomfortably, and their hair to their faces. Gimli half-expected a thunder storm, but looked up and pondered that even if rain did fall, the droplets could hardly make it beyond the thick blanket of overhead trees.

Legolas made casual conversation with the new she-elf. Gimli got his word in at times, and Aragorn was unusually silent as he led the way.

"You said yester-eve that you dwelt along the Angren River—a mortal property with mortal villagers—is that where you learned to sleep?" Legolas asked, nimbly leaping onto a sharp log and helping the woman with him as Aragorn jogged ahead. Gimli shook his head as he tagged behind the pair. It would seem that his Elvish friend was quite . . ._ keen_ for the lady's response.

"It is," Selene replied easily, "my mother and father were—like the Gondorian—wanderers. When I was born, they settled on human soil—a land they knew well. I accompanied them on several of their travels. I have been as far north as the split of the Grey flood and as far south as the deep trenches of Men's country—Southern Gondor."

"I presume you've been well trained with a bow or blade," Legolas remarked as he pressed on through a sudden thickery of shrubs.

"Of course. My parents trained me, after all." She paused and then added, "I've no doubt that with a proper warning, my three-part family could have taken the entire band of filthy uruk hai, but . . ." her voice trailed off. A sting of sympathy ripped through Legolas.

"You miss them, do you not?" He asked. Gimli rolled his eyes. _Idiot!_ Of _course_ she missed them!

"Yes . . ." she replied, as if uncertain. And although no one saw it, her eyes lost focus and the wildness of her face was briefly exposed before she gathered her expression and kept walking.

In three hour's time, Aragorn declared a rest. The four wearily set down, Aragorn dejected at no sign of Merry or Pippin.

"I don't suppose there's enough time to fall asleep—if but for a minute," Selene said.

"I've met few elves who've mastered the ability to dream," Legolas said, admiringly. Selene glanced down.

"Once you've fully submerged yourself in slumber, it's really not difficult to do it again.

"I never will understand you elf-folk. One minute you're off targeting orcs hundreds of feet away and complaining that your perfect aim wasn't good enough, and the next you're marveling over being _taught_ to sleep!" Gimli exclaimed. The elves looked at him blankly. Aragorn, who, for the first time that day, broke the silence.

"Look!"

"Look at what?" Gimli asked, his eyes trying to find Aragorn's excitement.

"Up in the trees," Legolas realized, snapping his neck to where Aragorn pointed and shaded his pale blue eyes.

"_Where_ in the trees?" Gimli asked, agitated. "I have not elf-eyes!"

"Hush! Speak more softly! Look!" Legolas said, pointing. "Down in the wood, back in the way that we have just come. It is he. Cannot you see him, passing from tree to tree?"

Morlyn had been well aware of the old, old man that had been, in fact, following them for quite some time—which is why she had closely monitored and manipulated her conversation with the elf—lest the wizard have the knowledge to disprove her answers. Yes; she knew the gray beard was the resurrected wizard of Istari. Her hand once again drifted to the hidden palantir in her cloak. She would not reveal it until the time was exactly right.

"I see, I see now!" Gimli hissed. "Aragorn! Did I not warn you? There is the old man! All in dirty, gray rags; that is why I could not see him at first!"

Aragorn beheld a bent figure moving slowly. It was not far away. It looked like an old beggar-man, walking wearily, leaning on a rough staff. His head was bowed, and he did not look towards them. In other lands, they would have greeted him with kind words as they had with Selene; but now they fell silent, each feeling a strange expectancy: something was approaching that held a hidden power—or menace.

Morlyn would have laughed to herself, had it not drawn attention to herself. She saw that they felt his power and was glad she had cleverly hidden her own dark magic from the travelers' senses. She watched as the dwarf shook in his boots with fear as he allowed the wizard they called 'Gandalf' to step closer and closer to them.

Morlyn winced and cringed, her hands to her ears, as the dwarf, unable to contain himself any longer, burst out. "Your bow, Legolas! Bend it! Get ready! It is Saruman. Do not let him speak; or put a spell on us! Shoot first!"

The flaxen-haired archer shifted his weight protectively in front of the dark woman, and held an arrow loose in his hand, but did not draw his bow—yet. Morlyn watched intently, wanting to say something to dissuade the male elf from raising his bow without sounding treacherous. If the son of Thranduil shot and killed Gandalf, her quest would be destroyed. The sun-witch would raise him from the empty place and by the time he caught up with them a second time, it would be much too late.

"Why are you waiting? What is the _matter_ with you?" Gimli hissed again.

"No," Aragorn spoke up, "Legolas is right," he said quietly. "We may not shoot an old man so at unawares and unchallenged, whatever fear or doubt be on us. Watch and wait!"

Morlyn watched quietly as the man sped up his pace. He was obviously _not_ Saruman, but the man _did_ hold brazen power, much akin to her own authority. As he reached them, she noted with interest that he wore a large slate-colored, wide-brimmed hat that was bent low over his face. Mithrandir broke the silence now.

"Well met, indeed, my friends." He spoke in a soft voice and Morlyn had expected something rougher. "I wish to speak to you."

"Now!" Cried Gimli. "Shoot him!" The dwarf drew his axe, but the old man was too quick for him. He leaped away onto a large boulder. There he stood, grown suddenly tall, towering above them. His hood and his grey rags were flung away. His white garments shone instead. Legolas loosed his bow, but the arrow crackled into fire and fell to the ground long before reaching the old man. Aragorn raised his sword but it glowed red with blazing heat and he had no choice but to drop it, squinting. Morlyn, on instinct, had begun to cast a spell in the tension of enemy confrontation, but caught herself just in time, disguising her magic words as a shriek and falling to her knees as the Dwarf's axe splintered into thousands of pieces as the bearded mortal flung it at their own wizard.

It was then that Legolas gave a great shout as he realized who it was they were failing to attack. "Mithrandir! Mithrandir!"

"Well met, I say to you again, Legolas." The four gazed, terrified and fascinated at the power before them. His hair was white as snow in the sunshine; and gleaming white was his robe. His eyes were bright, piercing as the rays of the sun—power was in his hand. Between wonder, joy, and fear, they found no words to say. Even Morlyn trembled at him. _This_ was who she was ordered to transport?

At last, Aragorn stirred. "Gandalf!" He said. "Beyond all hope you return to us in our need! What veil was over my sight?" Gimli sank to his knees, shading his eyes.

Mithrandir stepped off the rock and draped the grey tatters of cloak over himself as if he were the sun shifting behind a cloud.

"That was my name . . . wasn't it? Yes, you may still call me Gandalf." Morlyn looked at him warily, sizing him up. Counting his power in her head. She could challenge him, she decided. He would win, and he would win fairly easily, but she _could_ challenge him. Her task would have to be done in the dark of night while he slept.

"Get up, my good Gimli! No blame to you, and no harm done to me. And you too, dark child." Morlyn flinched at the softness in his tone as he addressed her. "Now come and sit, my friends. And tell me of yourselves."

"We would, Gandalf . . ." Aragorn's eyes flicked to Morlyn. challenge him. Her task would have to be done in the dark of night while he slept.

"Get up, my good Gimli! No blame to you, and no harm done to me. And you too, dark child." Morlyn flinched at the softness in his tone as he addressed her. "Now come and sit, my friends. And tell me of yourselves."

"We would, Gandalf . . ." Aragorn's eyes flicked to Morlyn. challenge him. Her task would have to be done in the dark of night while he slept.

"Get up, my good Gimli! No blame to you, and no harm done to me. And you too, dark child." Morlyn flinched at the softness in his tone as he addressed her. "Now come and sit, my friends. And tell me of yourselves."

"We would, Gandalf . . ." Aragorn's eyes flicked to Morlyn. "This is Selene, daughter of Hanerth and Nyelsaa. She escaped from the band of uruks that took Merry and Pippin," Aragorn said. Legolas watched the lady elf. He knew they had many dangerous secrets, but one of the last things he wanted was for her, in her injured and vulnerable state, to have to wander the forest alone. Legolas, as a wood elf, felt an intimate connection between himself and the ancient rugged trunks in front of him. And they were discontented. He could feel it. Something . . . sinister had entered recently and disturbed them. Something evil. Something close. No, he decided, she should not go alone.

"Hanerth . . ." the new old man closed his eyes and said, as if in a dream, "I do not know that name." He opened them. "She may listen. We will take her with us to Edoras, when we go."

And when they were all comfortably seated, Aragorn took up the tale. Gandalf said naught a word, although Gimli and Legolas often commented on their course of events. Morlyn was impressed. The Wizard Saruman had informed her that they were travelers, but when they spoke of defeating a Balrog of Morgoth, Morlyn began to question her Master's proportions. This Istari had slaughtered a _Balrog_. And that was _before_ he gained this newfound power. Her hand clutched the palantir. She had to do it _soon_. Before the novelty of a reunion had faded and the wizard detected her connection.

But Aragorn talked for at least an hour until he told of how they searched for their Halfling friends.

"And just yesterday was when we found Selene," Legolas put in. Gandalf looked at her.

"Angren Village, you say," said Gandalf. "I had heard of several human raids—I hadn't heard they were taking prisoners." The wizard said.

"One of the moriquendi in a mortal dwelling. They thought I was with Aragorn's band. You three. They wanted me to lead them to a band of men and Halflings traveling west. I hadn't heard of such a thing since it was, obviously, before the confrontation between you and the Uruks. They bound me and left me in one of the boats while they went on land—presumable where they captured your friends." She concluded.

"It is an unfortunate web to be caught in that is of the traitor, Saruman's."

Morlyn nearly choked at the wizard's words, and prepared to send him away then and there before the others had a chance to react, but she caught herself as they did . . . nothing. They just sighed and shook their head. Legolas even gave her a sad smile. That's when she realized they spoke of being 'captured' by her master's creatures. Not being sent _by _Saruman to send the wizard to a different dimension. The Thranduilian laid a slender hand on her shoulder. She remembered her quest and wanted to spit at it.

"So Gandalf, where would you be leading us?" Aragorn asked.

"Westward to Edoras is our destination!" Gandalf announced. Morlyn nodded, remembering Grima speak of his King—Theoden. He must be there now.

"Are we to leave now?" Legolas asked, brows furrowed. He realized the urgency of their situation, but Selene had already traveled a great deal for her weakened state and he hated to see her grow wearier with each passing hour.

"In the morning we will press on with all haste—but since we are near the edge of the wood, we can afford one early camp." Morlyn could see that the old man needed his rest. He would sleep well tonight. All she needed was time to prepare the spell . . .

"I will gather wood for our fire," she volunteered. If she could get far enough away, by the time she got back the wizard should be fast asleep and she should have the spells prepared.

"By yourself?"" Aragorn asked doubtfully. "You've only just been able to walk."

"I'll go with her," Legolas offered, admittedly eager for a chance to help the elf maiden.

"I should be fine," Morlyn reasoned pointedly. _No, no, no, no, NO!_ If the son of Thranduil accompanied her . . . no. This would not end well.

"It would be wise, Lady Selene," Aragorn said firmly.

"Ready?" The prince asked optimistically. She sighed and followed him away from the group. She'd have to kill him sooner than she would have preferred.

**XxXxXx**

As she absently gathered stray chips of wood, she secretly began to loosen her shields. Unbundling the scores of magic in her body and mind. The elf had brought his bow and quiver. She hoped he wouldn't notice until it was too late. It was now or never, after all.

"I can scarcely believe Mithrandir has been restored to us! Have you heard the tales of the Istari Gandalf the Grey? The prince broke out excitedly. Morlyn suppressed a growl and instead, rolled her eyes as her concentration shattered. Cursed light-son. She chose her next words carefully.

"I sense a greatest power in him. But until today, I did not know of these tales."

Legolas's eyes widened. "You village _must've_ been small," he noted. And then he stopped. "I apologize—I did not mean to dishonor your home. It must've been terrible to lose it." Legolas could not believe he had spoken so insensitively.

"It was," Morlyn said quietly. She hoped the blonde would keep quiet for just a moment so she could unlace her spells in peace.

"Do you hate him?" The elf asked. The question unnerved her. Hate was a sensitive subject. Morlyn whipped her head around.

"Hate who?" She asked sharply. Legolas looked confused.

"Saruman, of course. The one who killed your family." Morlyn bit back a hiss. _Your father killed my family, filth_. At least the question allowed for _one_ honest answer.

"Yes. I do hate him. He's a monster." She never wanted to work for this. For him.

"Stripping innocence from youth is abominable," Legolas was tight-lipped and Morlyn guessed he was thinking of his friends. He shook his head and changed the topic. "Where will you go after Edoras?" He asked. Morlyn though. What _would_ she do after regaining her revenge? Rule whatever share of Western Middle-Earth Saruman had promised? She was no leader. Desired no responsibility of his land. She was too nomadic. Perhaps she would freely travel—unhindered by the law of man and Elves. Did this mean she would be the only free one of her kind? The rest either escaped to the Undying Lands or enslaved by her master?

"Lady Selene?" The Thranduilian asked. Morlyn looked up.

"My apologies," Morlyn excused. The prince shook his head.

"None needed. I realize it may be a difficult subject for you . . ." he stopped beside her.

"My village was burned to the ground. I don't have all the answers to where I will be living. I will have no home."

"Selene, I would happily arrange a new home built for you in the Wood Provinces. I cannot replace your family and friends, but I can . . . perhaps provide others to care for you."

Morlyn laughed. "That's too kind, but I'm sure you have a lovely maiden in Mirkwood who would be . . . less than delighted to see you personally arrange these things." The forest was dank and dark, but Morlyn was fairly certain she saw blood rise to the Prince's face. Interesting.

"I can assure you, Lady Selene. Such factors are not of the matter." Ah. So the Light-Son lacked a mate. That was a pity. Selene had been looking forward to ripping her way from him and perhaps feeding her to one of Saruman's wolves. Make him perish in the most permanent Elven way. Heartbreak.

"Well, regardless of your marriage politics—I could never live in Mirkwood." Never again. The Prince's face took on an expression of disappointment and slight hurt.

"The reason?" She asked lightly. She smiled at him then.

"Prince Legolas Thranduilian," she began. He stopped her.

"Please—Legolas will suffice."

She raised her eyebrows and shook her head. "Look at me. I am of the moriquendi. Nomadic. The rather estranged dark-elves from Mirkwood. And Lothlorien. And Rivendell. The sons of light and the daughters of moon would not easily combine."

"This is a new age, Morlyn. You do not think that a Son of Light and a Daughter of Moon could not be together?" He asked softly. There. Her magic was undone. Morlyn closed her eyes and took a deep, warm breath. Opened her eyes to see the Elf prince's eyes—earthy and clear.

Legolas's heart leaped as, after he finished speaking, Selene closed her eyes, smiled, and drew a long breath. Relief was on her face. So she _had_ considered his proposition. And seemed to take to it . . . positively.

Finally, Morlyn could kill this _beast_ who's father had murdered her family.

She smiled, raised her hands to cast the death spell, but what genuinely shocked her was the fact that the prince smiled, _took her hand in his_ as if she had offered it to him, and leaned his narrow blonde head to hers and kissed her.

Morlyn's heart beat furiously as dooming dread plunged into her gut, her mind racing in panic as his lips moved against her. The magic was too new! He felt that—didn't he?! What was he _doing_?! She was going to be killed—he felt her magic—he had to act.

Legolas's lips tingled with electricity as they met her mouth. As soon as they touched, a wave of magic energy pulsated over him. Fire and ice and communication roared through his Elven ears. There was magic—_real_ magic here.

Morlyn spluttered. This had to _stop_. With a growl she shoved him away ad his eyes were confused.

"Lady Selene, wh—" he began. She took a threatening step toward him.

"Do. Not. Touch me." She warned. The Thranduilian arched his eyebrows and his face quickly melted into horror.

"Lady Selene, I _apologize_," he breathed. "I had forgotten what you must've suffered at the hands of . . . I would never dream of hurting you!"

What was he _babbling_ about?! "Is that how your father taught you to _lie_?!" She snorted, pressing further, the male elf taking a few steps back.

"I-I don't under—"

"I think I'll _kill_ you for your deceptions," she seethed. Malice frosted her words. His eyes widened and his fingers twitched toward his bow but he did not touch it.

"I did nothing!" He protested. Rage boiled in Morlyn's skin. She held out a fist. A spell of death on the tip of her tongue.

'You killed my family."

The weight and impact of the unbound power in Morlyn's words hit the prince like a boulder. He was flown backwards and an icy breeze whipped through the warm, humid weather.

Morlyn's eyes blazed with a delighted cruelty and she sprang. Her leather-clad feet slammed into his chest as the prince hit the ground, back skidding across tree roots. Swiftly, kneeling on his stomach, she yanked away his bow and quiver and flung them away.

As she turned back, she didn't have time to stop Legolas's elbows ramming into her own stomach, bucking away from her and iron fore-arms yanking her arms behind her, and twisting them cruelly behind her.

"You cannot be who you are. I sense evil," Legolas whispered to Selene, trying to wrap his mind around what was happening. She laughed and Legolas knew he had been deceived.

"Very clever, Princeling." She hissed. Something in her cloak was loosened and rolled out. Legolas caught his breath in shock.

"One of the seven seeing stones . . . you! Who _are_ you?!" He demanded.

"My name is Morlyn Elyrinath," she said in a strangled death purr. "Remember me now?" Elyrinath. The dark sorcerers—known for their open practice of the black arts. Cunning. Sinister. And the most powerful of the Eldalie save for Galadriel of the Lauriens. Although Legolas had been on the search for the creature, Gollum, word had gotten to him that his father, King Thranduil had delivered their execution after a fair warning. All of them. Except . . . Morlyn gritted her teeth and jerked her head backwards into Legolas's forehead, stunning him. Morlyn took her chance. She sprinted to her feet, grabbed the palantir and ran for the camp. Her sweet revenge would just have to wait.

Legolas wasted no time in slinging his bow and quiver on his back and racing after her. She was after Mithrandir, no doubt. The only being she'd need _that_ much magic to challenge. He was nothing to her. To the spawn of Elyrinath. But he would have to take her down. Or at least warn them.

Branches whipped across Morlyn's face as she stumbled madly through the woods. She held the burning palantir out in front of her with one hand. Teeth chattered as she mumbled the incantations. No doubt the Prince would be after her soon.

And he had impeccable timing.

With a yell, Legolas leaped, landing on her back, sending Morlyn tumbling to the ground. She crawled quickly, shielding the palantir with two hands as she did so. Almost there. Legolas's hand grabbed at her cloak, ripping it, and following her movement. Morlyn could see their camp where the man, dwarf, and wizard still slept peacefully just 50 feet away. Just a _bit _closer. She stumbled to her feet and lunched another 25 feet before Legolas wrestled her down again. She whirled around, sending her clenched fist spinning with a vengeance into his face and slamming her hands hard into his neck while she pinned him right outside the camp.

"You can't kill him," Legolas groaned weakly.

"I know that, fool!" She laughed lightly. "I'm sending him away."

"_Why_?" His breath was pained as she pressed in harder, cutting off his air supply. She leaned in to whisper in his ear.

"_Because I __**hate**__ you_." With a cry that woke Aragorn and Gimli, Morlyn wrenched her hands from his neck, raised the palantir into the air. "Ascalonien dhten ehliexa!" She cried, her eyes glowing white, she aimed the stone of Orthanc at Gandalf.

"NO!" Legolas roared, taking up and arrow in a last ditch effort, stabbing her forearm which held the stone. Morlyn shrieked as her tendons unlaced and blood spilled from her arm, dropping the palantir into her good hand. It was too late. The seeing stone blazed into white splinters of ice-light. The magic had been released. Morlyn fell to the ground, howling in pain. Legolas threw himself over the palantir, trying to stop the deadly flame. Morlyn lifted her eyes, saw what was happening, and screeched.

"The power!" She screamed. "_No! You're absorbing the power_!" She stretched out a bloodied, writhing hand and grasped the palantir.

_Can't stop it_, she realized. _I can't stop it_.

Morlyn, Legolas, and the flaming palantir disappeared in a flash of orange and blinding white.

"Mithrandir! What's happening?!" Aragorn cried. Gandalf, who had been awake the entire time, and also had sensed Morlyn _and_ the Palantir's power long before, simply smiled.

"Wait and see, my friends. It shouldn't take long. For us, at least."

**XxXxXx**

**Thanks for reading everyone! I know this is long! I hope to update soon! And for you Karma Chronicles fans, I WILL be updating by the end of the week. Leave me alone! I just had a birthday party/my cousins leave after staying with us for two months/got back from camp/started work so I've been a _little_ busy lately. Okay? Thanks! Please drop me a review!**


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